


The Diary

by morganadarkwings



Category: Dancing on the Edge (TV 2013)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganadarkwings/pseuds/morganadarkwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terrible title, and terrible summary coming up, my apologies.  Major SPOILERS for episode 3 of Dancing on the Edge.</p>
<p>Still reeling from the news and alone in their bedroom, Carla finally makes herself read Jessie's diary..</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Diary

_Dear Diary,  
I haven't ever done this before, I don't really know what to say. Hello, my name is Jessie Taylor. My friend Carla said one of us should start a diary when we got taken on by the Louis Lester Band as singers, and she said because I'm better at writing than her that I should do it. So here I am, writing in this book. I feel a bit silly, really. But imagine, just little Carla and Jess, wearing lovely dresses and singing in the Imperial hotel! Things have changed a lot in the last few days, now we live in a big hotel in our own room, where I'm sat writing to you..._

It was hidden beneath her bed in the battered old suitcase - the one she had never had cause to use again because they had never left the Imperial, and besides, with her first wages, Jessie had bought them a new one each. There were many times when Carla had been alone in the room with enough time to slip the small book out and thumb through it quickly, but she never had. She couldn't. The idea of betraying Jessie's trust in such a way made her feel sick.

Often, when they were both curled up in bed at night, she would see Jessie bent over her diary, a soft, repetitive scratching noise as she wrote furiously, a sound which Carla eventually found she couldn't fall asleep without. Carla would find by the end of the day that she was completely spent, barely having enough energy to keep her eyes open whilst readying herself for bed, but Jessie somehow always had the patience and energy to write down everything she felt needed to be recorded in her diary. Of course, Carla had often wondered what her friend was writing, but she knew that if Jessie wanted her to know, she would tell her, and all in her own time. But now she never could.

_Dear Diary,  
Today I went out and spent my wages. There are still a lot of dressmakers who would turn someone like me away, but I ended up in a small shop owned by a Russian woman who said that she had no problem with taking custom from a black woman, if I had no problem being measured and fitted by a Russian woman. Luckily Pamela was with me anyway, and she wouldn't have let anyone be unkind to me. She is so very lovely..._

Carla felt the raw jealousy as a sharp, physical pain. Where had she been, why hadn't she been invited out with Jessie to go shopping? It wasn't like she hadn't noticed that sometimes Jessie took off without warning, returning late in the day, always with a secretive smile lighting her face. For a moment, a tiny spark of anger flared up, briefly replacing the dull, empty ache she had felt, unendingly, since it happened. She had wondered once or twice whether Jessie was sneaking away to see a man, but she knew better now; she just had another friend with whom she preferred to spend her time.

She was embarrassed to find tears welling up, and she dashed them away, knowing that the moment she let one fall, all of her defences would crumble and she would break. She wanted to cry over Jessie properly, not with anger over some stupid shopping day months ago. She wanted to curl up in bed, with Jessie's favourite grey cardigan clutched in her hands and pressed to her face to take in her scent, and sob like her heart was breaking, which she knew it was.

_...We even went to a coffee house afterwards, Pamela really does know all of the best places in London. When we were there a woman recognised me and came up to me and asked me to sign a napkin for her, but all I had was a tube of lipstick at the bottom of my bag. She didn't seem to mind though. I was so nervous talking to her, I wished Carla was there, she is always so good with people._

Carla's chest tightened, the air seeming to leave her in a choked gasp, or perhaps a sob, as she ran her finger over her own name. The entry was scrawled, maybe it was written in a rush to have it finished before they went to bed, but it seemed as though Jessie had slowed down, taken her time, writing Carla's name. She shook her head at her own sentimentality. More likely, she had been distracting Jessie while she wrote, and that was the point at which Jessie had finally stopped to complain. As she turned the page and read on, her heart skipped a beat. And then another. And then she had to swipe away a tear from the words in front of her.

_Dear Diary,  
Carla loved the dress!!! It was such a risk taking one of hers and asking for it to be made to the same measurements, but it worked. In the end I just couldn't tell her, so I said we were sent them in an unmarked parcel. Her smile when she put it on and it fitted like a glove was such an amazing feeling that it's all the thanks I need. I love knowing that I can make her happy sometimes, when she's done so much for me in the past._

Slowly, with the utmost care, she placed the diary down on the bed beside her, choking back a sob and reaching for her handkerchief to wipe away the tears already brimming in her eyes. She remembered the morning the dresses had arrived as though it was yesterday, Jessie almost delirious with excitement, twirling around the room, wearing her dress already. Carla had sat in silence for what seemed like hours, delicately fingering the lush, red material. She was so honoured that someone had thought to send her something as well as Jessie. And now she knew it had been a present, albeit a secret one, from the woman herself. And she was right, it fitted her like a glove. Carla had worn it to as many performances as she possibly could without it looking like that was her only dress. Every time, Jessie had found reason to touch her hair or rub her arm, and tell her how beautiful she looked.

Did she tell Jessie enough times how beautiful she was, and how much she meant to her? Did Jessie.. did she leave the earth knowing that Carla adored her? The very thought that she didn't made Carla's heart ache painfully, and she found that she could no longer keep the sobs at bay, the hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Suddenly she needed to read more, she needed to read the final entry Jessie had made, to know how she was feeling and whether she felt loved. She flipped to the back of the book, flicking through the blank pages until she was stopped by a single entry with blank pages either side of it. It began with her name. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, dashing the tears from her cheeks with the handkerchief again, unable to bear the idea of smudging Jessie's last testament of their friendship.

_Carla,_  
 _My dearest darling, I know you are only reading my diary because something has happened to me, and that alone makes you amazing. So many times you could have read it while you were alone, or asked me what I was writing, but you didn't. But don't worry yourself about that, everything I worried about or needed help with, I told you - I never kept anything important from you._  
 _I don't know what it is that has taken me from you, love, but I'm sorry. Please know that I fought with all that I could give to stop us being parted, and wherever I am now, I'm watching over you, protecting you and keeping you safe the way you always did for me._  
 _Oh Carla, darling, it was amazing while it lasted, wasn't it? I can't think of anyone I'd rather have shared it with, you're the best friend I could ever have asked for. You mean everything to me Carla, and I have been honoured to know you, to hug and kiss you, to share the best months of my life with you. But most of all, I want you to know that I have loved you too much for words, and I will go on loving you until the very end of time, my darling._  


Carla ran her fingers reverently over the final words, no longer trying to restrain her emotions. If she closed her eyes tightly enough, wished hard enough, she could almost feel Jessie at her side. She would wear the red dress tonight, and she would wear it when she sang at the funeral, because it was what Jessie would want. Still she cried, and still her tears were bitter with loss and regret, but she knew she would carry on and that somehow she would make Jessie proud. Carla looked over at Jessie's bed, almost able to picture her lying there the way she had on their first day at the hotel. "I love you too Jess. I always have and I always will," she murmured, blowing a kiss to her friend, wherever she was.


End file.
